


Comeback.

by florgi



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, I wrote this instead of sleeping & studying, M/M, there's almost no agnst tbh, us open 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florgi/pseuds/florgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You shouldn’t have stayed up so late, Nole.” He opens his eyes and focuses on his boyfriend, trying to look angry behind his exhaustion. Novak smiles and bites back a laugh. “You have a match tomorrow.”</p><p>“Yeah, on Friday. I still have more than twenty four hours for that. And I wanted to see you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comeback.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pipitass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipitass/gifts).



> First work for the Tennis fandom, and obviously first work for this ship. I needed to give some comfort to Juan Martín and I've been dying to write about these two for over two months now. So here it goes, hope you like it.
> 
> -Sara, this is for you and you know why haha xx

Juan Martín opens the door carefully, trying not to make too much noise. When he steps inside the hotel room, though, he is surprised with the lights which are still on. He shakes his head and throws his multiples bags on the floor and walks straight to the bed. Juan throws himself in the bed, careful not to hit Novak who has fallen asleep with the TV on waiting for him, probably.

The movement on the bed wakes the Serbian man who blinks his eyes open a few times before he focuses on the pile of limps beside him and the pair of bright blue eyes looking at him. More out of habit than consciousness, he raises a hand and runs his fingers through Juan’s short hair. Novak watches as the man closes his eyes and sighs, tension notoriously leaving his body.

“You shouldn’t have stayed up so late, Nole.” He opens his eyes and focuses on his boyfriend, trying to look angry behind his exhaustion. Novak smiles and bites back a laugh. “You have a match tomorrow.”

“Yeah, on Friday. I still have more than twenty four hours for that. And I wanted to see you.”

Juan Martín shakes his head but doesn’t argue back. He already knows it is useless. (Just as how useless it is to convince him not to stay up to watch Novak’s matches.) He stands up and starts discarding his clothes under Novak’s attentive look. They share small smiles and Novak even winks an eye quickly at him, making the Argentine laugh softly. Mission accomplished.

When Juan is down to only his boxers, he turns off the TV and gets into his side of the bed while Novak puts the room in complete darkness. It takes them less than a few seconds to reach for the heat of the other’s body. Tender, protective hands are soon running up and down the extensions of soft skin. Novak presses lightly on all the places he knows Juan Martín is hurting after so many hours of playing. The Argentine only replies with the involuntary tension of his muscles and the small puffs of air escaping his lips.

Juan waits for about five minutes for Novak to kiss him, but his boyfriend seems too busy imprinting his fingerprints in every inch of his skin. Juan takes Novak’s face between his larger hands and brings him closer until their lips are pressed together. They stay there for a while, breathing the same air, sharing small pecks on the lips. Novak brushes his nose with Juan’s tenderly and kisses him again.

“Nole…”

“Shh, you were amazing.” His hands were running again up and down the infinite length of Juan’s back.

“But that first set, if I had…” Novak shuts him with a new kiss and presses with his tongue, deepening the kiss in the hopes of distracting his boyfriend from the recently lost match.

After a while, Juan Martín pulls apart and places his forehead to Novak’s. He has to go cross-eyed to look at his boyfriend and they both end up laughing because of his weird face. Novak interrupts Juan with another kiss before he can say something else and they start laughing again. Juan doesn’t remember a time when breathing came so easily to him.

“Don’t I have freedom of speech or something?”

“Not if you are putting yourself down.” They stay silent for a while. Novak leans forward enough to kiss Juan’s cheek. “Come here…”

Novak handles Juan Martín until the Argentine is resting his head just above his heart and he can envelope his body with both arms. Novak places a new kiss to the top of Juan’s hair and stays there a few minutes just thinking. Surprisingly, it is Juan the one who break the silence first.

“Did you hear the people?”

Novak smiles, of course he did. And he cried almost as much as Juan Martín.

“They love you.”

“It felt like... It really feels like I’m back, you know?”

Novak chuckles and Juan has to strain a little his neck to look up at him. The Serbian takes his chance and kisses Juan’s little nose quickly before speaking.

“A silver medal at the Olympics and the US Open quarter final… Many would kill to have such a comeback.”

Juan laughs softly and hides his face in the warm skin of Novak’s chest. When he speaks again there’s a tint of joke in his voice.

“But I wanted to get to the final and beat you again, you know.” Novak has to try hard to keep his laughter down.

“Oh, really?” Juan Martín only nods as a reply. Novak pinches his waist playfully, knowing well that right there Juan is very ticklish.

“No, no, stop! Please!”

He is already laughing, pressing the sounds and his lips to Novak’s chest and the Serbian doesn’t think there’s anything that feels better than that. A new tender hand runs all the way from Juan’s head to the small of his back. It settles then in the middle, protective, reassuring.

“I guess I’ll have to be your wag for the rest of the competition.”

“Oh God, no. Shut up, Juan.” Novak hides his chuckle in Juan’s hair, who in turn is laughing openly and loudly. “Don’t you have Davies Cup matches or something?”

“Already want to get rid of me?”

“Never. You know it.” Both hands wrap around Juan Martín’s back and press him closer to Novak’s body. The Argentine smiles and stretches in his boyfriend’s arms to be able to kiss him.

“I’m glad, because I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

“I believe you do have matches in the U.K., though. And then there’s Shanghai…”

“Nole. Shut up and kiss me?”

And how could he say no to those sweet loving blue eyes?


End file.
